


The Sultan's Gift

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crowley joins the harem, Explicit Smut, Falling In Love, Semi-historical accuracy, Sultan Aziraphale, Temptation, sleeper agent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-01-27 11:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Aziraphale is assigned to lead the Ottoman Turks during their campaign against the Byzantine Empire. Being a sultan affords certain perks which the angel enjoys immensely. One day he receives an unexpected gift from his enemies...an irresistible redhead for his harem.As he grows more distracted from his work, Aziraphale begins to realize there's more to Crowley than meets the eye.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 123





	1. An unexpected gift

The Kizlar Agha approached the sultan and bowed low. “A gift has arrived from the Byzantine Empire.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He hated to be interrupted when reading the scrolls he’d collected from every corner of the Ottoman domain and beyond. But this was the head eunuch, and such traditions must be observed. He’d been masquerading as the sultan for three months at this point, so it was unlikely he would get out of his assignment any time soon. Might as well play the part.

“Very well,” the angel muttered.

The Agha nodded. “You’ll find it in your chambers.” He bowed again and took his leave.

Aziraphale glanced at the candle burning low on the table beside him. How had the day passed so quickly? He left the plush surroundings of his library, fingers tickling against the cold mosaic tiles along the walls. The intricate geometric patterns soothed his mind in times of stress, which was nearly every day for a ruler. But now at least he could get some rest.

He approached his imperial quarters eagerly, wondering what riches or luxuries his nemesis had sent him now. Although they were natural enemies, it wasn't unusual for kingdoms to continue a line of trade buffered by 'incentives' to keep their respective economies moving along. Frequent political gifts included precious robes, rare delicacies, and even horses, from time to time. Surely his men knew better than to leave a stallion in his room though, he smirked. He took a deep breath as he pushed the ornately carved wooden door ajar.

At first he saw nothing unusual but his eyes were still adjusting to the dim light of a candle near his bed. On the frame sat a shadowed figure barely outlined by the flickering flame.

“Hello?” Aziraphale asked, terribly confused.

The figure rose quickly and bowed. “Forgive me, padişah,” a man’s voice intoned gravely. “I did not mean to surprise you.”

“Yet I am,” Aziraphale huffed. “What exactly do you think you’re doing in my chambers?”

The man drew near where the angel could see him more clearly. He was tall and slender with burning red hair that fell just above his shoulders. He was dressed in the Roman fashion with a long white tunica and purple silk dalmatica.

“I am a token of gratitude from Constantine, 11th of his name,” the man explained.

Aziraphale’s eyebrow went up. “A token from the Emperor? Are you here to offer your services?”

The man came closer, nearly touching the blonde. “I am.” His amber eyes were large and hypnotic. “I only wish to please you.”

Aziraphale opened and then shut his mouth. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

The man nodded and lifted his hand to the blonde’s soft cheek, barely stroking. He gazed at the angel’s lips with straightforward desire. “Shall I show you?”

Aziraphale blushed profusely and took a step back. “Now wait a moment…” he began nervously.

“I displease you?” the redhead bemoaned. His lower lip began to tremble.

“I didn’t say that,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I just...are you saying you’re here to join the harem?” The angel knew he had one, or that is to say he’d heard that he had one, not that he would ever investigate the matter. Angelic beings had no need of carnal pleasures after all.

The redhead nodded slowly. “Only if you want me to. If not, I will return to Byzantium.” His voice was strangled.

“And what will you do there?” Aziraphale asked with concern.

“The Emperor will be unhappy with me. I’m not sure I would be allowed to live,” the man replied. His lower lip quaked again.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sighed. “Well we can’t have that. I suppose you must remain at the palace, then.”

The redhead brightened instantly and moved forward so fast the angel didn’t see it coming. The man’s plush lips pressed against his neck, eliciting a shocked gasp from the angel. He quickly pushed the man away despite the pleasant rush that made his heart thump erratically.

“Now see here,” Aziraphale said sternly. “That’s not how it will be between us. In fact, I think you should leave now.”

The redhead froze in fear. “If I go the Agha will surely beat me. He will know I have failed to please you.” He held out his hands in supplication.

The blonde’s demeanor shifted into righteous anger. “That’s absolutely unacceptable. I suppose I’ll need to have a talk with him about these barbaric procedures.”

The man began to shake visibly. “Please don’t turn me away,” he begged. “Let me stay here with you tonight.”

Aziraphale sighed but relented all the same. “Fine, but there’s to be no...funny business.” He strode toward his bed and stretched out over the fine silk covers. He grabbed the closest book and began to read intently. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he realized there was no other furniture in the room other than a few chairs. The man merely stood where he’d left him, cradling his arms around his torso for comfort. He looked infinitely sad.

“Oh, come on then,” the blonde conceded grumpily. “There’s more than enough room if you want to sleep.”

The redhead perked up and smiled for the first time. Aziraphale couldn’t help his heartbeat quickening at the sight. The man was quite beautiful, really. But then, with no pretense at all, he pulled at a clasp on his shoulder and let his garments fall to the floor. He stood in all of his nude glory, a lean and muscular frame that begged to be touched. A smattering of auburn hair across his chest trailed down to...

Aziraphale found himself unable to blink as the redhead crawled up onto the bed and nestled under the covers. “Thank you,” he said bashfully as he peeked up through red curls.

“What is your name?” the angel asked softly, his throat gone dry.

“Crowley,” the reply was muffled through a yawn. Aziraphale realized the redhead must have been traveling for days to reach his destination. His eyes were already falling shut. Against his better judgement, the angel allowed his fingers to brush errant strands of hair away from his face. Crowley let out a contented sigh in response.

The angel watched him give in to exhaustion, wondering what kind of life someone like Crowley must have led.

-

When Aziraphale woke he found Crowley had wrapped himself around the angel’s body in the night. A spicy scent emanated from his auburn hair while his overall warmth created an unfamiliar ache in Aziraphale’s stomach. He tried to remove himself from the situation but Crowley only held on tighter.

“Don’t go,” the redhead moaned weakly.

“I have... duties to attend to, my dear,” the angel replied as he finally extracted his limbs and stood more confidently back on solid ground. He glanced back at the slave who was twisting around in his sheets, one pale thigh surfacing as he moved. Aziraphale couldn’t help but admire the rest of Crowley’s form. Toned arms wrapped around the pillow, a strong and wiry back that dipped down into two soft indentations above his backside, which was thankfully concealed by the bedsheets.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and made himself walk away. Angels weren’t supposed to notice those kinds of things after all. Instead, he immersed himself in his work as soon as possible. He strode purposefully toward the meeting room where his advisors had no doubt already assembled. They had been working on a plan to topple Constantinople, and their preparations were nearly complete. Given his heavenly role in guiding the unfolding events, Aziraphale swore off any thoughts of the redhead for the rest of the day.

Of course, this was easier said than done. He found himself looking out the window more than anything else. At last they broke for the afternoon meal and Aziraphale scurried back to his room. He was unsurprised to find the redhead in bed still, but now he was holding one of the angel’s parchments, a finger tracing over the page.

“You can read?” the blonde asked as he entered.

Crowley looked up in chagrin and set the paper aside. “I know the letters,” he admitted, “But I never learned how they work together.”

Aziraphale sensed his embarrassment and found himself perched on the side of the bed, brushing a loose curl over the man’s shoulder. He found the red hair to be quite distracting. “I suppose I’ll have to teach you,” he offered.

Crowley smiled and Aziraphale took in a deep breath. It was all straight, top teeth that set off the crinkles on either side of his eyes. What exactly had had the angel gotten himself into? Rather than think too deeply on it, he deferred to another topic.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked. Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale was certain the redhead would rather starve than ask anything of his master. They were going to have to work on that too.

Aziraphale rang a bell to signal the servants and they arrived shortly after bearing steaming dishes of food. He breathed in eagerly as he eyed the slow-cooked mutton in tomato paste, eggplant salad, and shish kabobs. He was just about to tuck in when he noticed Crowley hadn’t moved.

“Eat, please!” the angel offered. He held up a kabob in invitation.

Crowley swam out of the covers and took the kabob with interest, not even remotely ashamed of his nudity as he licked at the hot meat on his knees. Aziraphale wished he had chosen any other snack on the plate to provide him, but it was a little late for that. Instead he held up his hand and averted his eyes.

“Clothing, dear,” he reminded gently.

Crowley managed to pry off the first morsel of meat and groaned as the juice ran down his chin. “M’fine,” he growled out through a mouthful.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of sheets, making to cover the redhead’s lap but accidentally slipped and his hand found purchase on Crowley’s inner thigh instead. The angel couldn’t have been more shocked and froze when he realized he was touching bare skin. For his part, the redhead didn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, let out a soft huff of air. His eyes locked on the sultan in silent solicitation.

Before the angel could think to move Crowley opened his legs wider and the traitorous hand landed on his soft, uncircumcised shaft. The redhead rocked into the sensation and let his head fall back.

Aziraphale had never seen such a wanton display of lust, but he couldn’t tell if it was something Crowley actually wanted or what he’d been trained to do. He snatched his hand back as if it had been burnt. Crowley pouted but continued to eat his kabob with barely subdued fire behind his eyes.

“Now see here,” the angel said in an unexpectedly broken tone. “I told you that was not to be the nature of our relationship.”

“I am sorry padişah,” the redhead looked genuinely remorseful. “It’s just that I… I cannot help but desire you." His tongue peeked out to trace his lower lip. "Do you not find me desirable?”

Aziraphale’s face flushed. “I...I didn’t say… I think you are very um...pleasing, but that’s not the issue. I’m wholly disinterested in the sexual nature of your favors.” His words were less convincing given their weak delivery.

Crowley looked confused. “Then how can I serve you? I want to be of some use. Would you like to watch me? You don’t have to touch if you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale felt like he was losing his mind as the redhead’s hand trailed down his own body. The tips of his fingers glistened with grease from the meat. Before that hand could reach its destination Aziraphale stood up and strode toward the window, forcing his eyes to survey the imperial gardens below.

“I don’t want you to do that or anything else you’ve been trained to do,” the angel said forcefully. “If you wish to remain you may, but only on that condition. Do you understand?” He willed himself to stare at the garden a moment longer.

When he turned around the redhead had picked up his tunica and thrown in on, thank God. He nodded to show he had been listening. “I’m happy to do whatever you ask,” Crowley replied. He didn’t seem upset about it. He looked as if he was earnestly trying to figure out how best to please his master.

Aziraphale nodded curtly and grabbed one of the dishes as he dashed out of the door. When he arrived in the dining hall he lifted the silver lid only to realize it held more kabobs. He sighed. He’d likely never think about the dish in the same way again.


	2. Giving In

Aziraphale finished his day and walked back toward his chambers armed with less naive thoughts about the redhead. First off, he’d need to find him other sleeping arrangements. Their intimate proximity was untenable. Not because the angel was even remotely tempted, indeed not. It was simply a matter of decorum and what was best for the human. 

Secondly, it was imperative that Crowley was given something to do. He might as well make himself useful and it would keep him from becoming bored stiff day in and day out. This might also distract the redhead from attempting to practice his...inherent vocation.

As he rounded the corner Aziraphale was surprised to see Crowley outside of his quarters, sort of. The redhead was leaning against the open door while one of the sultan’s burlier guards pressed into him. The guard was trying to lift Crowley’s chin but he was resisting. He looked terrified. A flash of jealousy accompanied a growing sense of panic in the sultan’s chest.

“Unhand my concubine!” Aziraphale all but belted out as he rushed angrily down the corridor. The guard whirled and raised his hands, muttering apologies immediately.

“I did not know!” the guard swore. “I thought he was a cleaning boy!”

“Get out of my sight,” the angel hissed as he fussed with Crowley, shoving him back into the room and slamming the door.

“What in the world were you doing?” Aziraphale demanded. He was so angry that he didn’t notice the red-rimmed eyes of his slave. A single tear fell down Crowley’s cheek. He was trembling.

“Oh, oh,” the angel sputtered as he realized what he’d done. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. You’re so…” Enticing was the word that came to mind, but he shoved it out of his mind. Aziraphale grabbed a heavy blanket and wrapped it around Crowley’s shoulders to calm him down. In response, Crowley lunged at the blonde and hid in his arms.

“What am I going to do with you?” Aziraphale sighed. His hand brushed through the red hair and found it had grown lank and greasy. “Ah. Well a bath would be a good place to start.”

Crowley peeked up at him with a tiny smile.

Aziraphale’s maids brought in a large copper basin and began to fill it with hot pails of water. To it they added scented oils and flower petals until it steamed deliciously. Aziraphale nodded his approval and gestured for the women to help Crowley but the redhead shrank back and hid behind Aziraphale.

The blonde gestured in surprise. “What’s this?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened of them?”

Crowley looked at him with wide, helpless eyes.

Aziraphale softened as he realized how shook up Crowley must have been after the situation with the guard. Of course he wouldn’t trust anyone else so easily. Aziraphale dismissed the servants and drew the redhead toward the tub himself.

“Okay, it’s just us,” he reassured. “Go ahead now.”

Crowley drew off his garments and left them in a pool on the floor. Aziraphale inhaled sharply at the sight, as if he hadn’t seen Crowley naked for the better part of the last day. Something about the way he’d been covered up made it more exciting now. ‘Like tearing paper from a present,’ the comparison came unbidden. The angel stared at the ground to steady himself. He didn’t understand these foreign thoughts and feelings that emerged in Crowley’s presence.

Thankfully the redhead stepped into the tub and descended into the water with a pleased sigh. Aziraphale was about to work on his correspondence when he realized that Crowley was sitting motionless in the tub, curled up into a ball. That wouldn’t do.

“You’ll need to wash yourself,” Aziraphale said as if to a child. Crowley met his gaze but didn’t register his words. Could he still be in shock?

The angel took off his mintan and rolled up the sleeves of his kaftan. The servants had left a pitcher near the bath and he used it to draw hot water from the tub. Slowly, he coaxed Crowley’s head back and poured the warm liquid over his hair, careful to avoid his face. The redhead’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt Aziraphale’s fingers begin to massage a scented soap into his hair. For his part, the blonde could hardly drag his eyes away from Crowley’s glowing face, sparse freckles dusting over his cheeks and small mouth open in contentment.

What would it be like to kiss him? Aziraphale was shocked by his own imagination. But as he stared at Crowley’s pliant lips the idea became more and more intriguing. As if he sensed the growing tension the redhead slowly opened his eyes to meet Aziraphale’s.

“Time to rinse,” the sultan said brusquely. After, he worked more soap over Crowley’s shoulder blades and dug into small knots as he found them. The redhead was becoming more visibly relaxed and whined quietly when Aziraphale rubbed his back. After finishing his upper body the angel gave Crowley’s feet some attention before stroking up to his strong calves. It was strange to wash someone like this. Aziraphale usually just miracled himself clean to avoid the hassle. But in doing so manually, it made the blonde keenly aware of how intimate and tender the act could be.

He cleared his throat and asked Crowley to stand. Crowley drew up out of the water and rivers ran down over his skin, escaping back into the tub below. Aziraphale stood with him and began to stroke his hands over Crowley’s chest and stomach. The muscles there were hard and perfect. Aziraphale drifted down his sides and barely ghosted over the edges of his glutes. He resisted the urge to pull him near to reach his small backside. Instead, the angel indicated with a gesture for Crowley to turn around. He obeyed easily.

Aziraphale’s hands mapped over the redhead’s cheeks, perhaps spending more time there than strictly necessary. He loved the way they creased where they met Crowley’s hard thighs. He let his thumbs trace under the lines and felt his own breath catch. Next, Aziraphale allowed his fingers to follow the cleft of Crowley’s cheeks, curiously tracing down to his small hole and scrubbing lightly to clean him.

Crowley let out a desperate moan and Aziraphale withdrew his hand immediately, opting to use to the pitcher to rinse him off. He hadn’t known what he was doing, and had never made a study of human erogenous zones. He had Crowley turn around again, and saw that the redhead’s cock had become engorged. He ignored the erection and used the soap to scrub under Crowley’s scrotum, but this didn’t seem to help matters either. The redhead let out another huff of air and his cock strained upward. At the very least, Aziraphale knew that wrapping his fingers around Crowley would elicit more moans, so he avoided that altogether.

His absence there only made his slave grow more excited. “Please,” he gasped. “Oh please touch me.”

It was the most brazen, if only request the redhead had made up to this point. Aziraphale tried to weigh the consequences in his mind. Would it be a greater sin to neglect this man’s need (undoubtedly created by his own ministrations) or to concede to his lust? In the end, his curiosity unthinkingly made the decision for him.

The blonde reached out to trace a finger over Crowley’s cock and watched as a pearly dot began to form on the tip. The redhead quaked and his hands turned into fists at his sides. Aziraphale grew braver, stroking the back of his fingers over the erection and then gripping it lightly in his hand.

“I...I don’t know what to do,” the blonde croaked.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open and he stared down at his sultan. He pushed into Aziraphale’s fist and his grip instinctively tightened. Crowley pulled away before pumping back toward the blonde and groaning loudly. “Like that,” the redhead could barely speak.

Aziraphale tried the maneuver on his own and had to use his free hand to steady himself on the redhead’s hip. He stood there, stroking eagerly as he watched tiny muscle spasms play over Crowley’s face. He seemed to be in ecstacy.

“Is this good?” Aziraphale asked meekly.

Crowley gave a long hard moan and nodded. “Yes. Thank you, oh thank you padişah.”

“Aziraphale,” the blonde corrected, noticing his own voice had gone husky. Experimentally, he quickened the pace and Crowley all but bucked into his hand, his legs shaking. His breaths were coming out in little puffs of air. The angel was transfixed. He vaguely wondered what would happen if he sank to his knees and let his mouth-

“Oh,” Crowley let out suddenly. He stilled in the sultan’s grip before looking at him directly. With one more thrust of his hips he was coming, his seed filling the blonde’s hand and squirting beyond onto his kaftan. “Aziraphale,” he whispered as he began to collapse.

The blonde helped him lower back into the tub, rinsing the mess away from his body. Crowley looked like he’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Aziraphale stroked his cheek before lifting him out of the water, cradling his spent body in his arms. He threw a towel around the redhead and dabbed him dry before laying him down on the bed. “Rest now,” he whispered. 

Aziraphale knew he should feel some sense of shame or guilt about his own actions, but the attempt at self-punishment wouldn’t take. All he could think about was how beautiful the redhead was, and how lovely it was to bring him pleasure. He spent the whole of the night watching him sleep.


	3. The First Omen

When the dawn came Aziraphale lazily remembered how he was going to find other quarters for the redhead, but the thought of the guard’s advances made him hesitate. What if others (like himself, he acknowledged) found themselves unable to resist Crowley’s charms? What if they forced themselves on him? In some ways the redhead was so innocent, almost childlike in how he interacted with the world. In other ways he was the epitome of temptation. The combination was enough to rock Aziraphale’s beliefs and confront him with feelings he’d never dealt with before. Was it from a sense of selfishness or protectiveness that he kept the man locked up in his room?

At least he could give him something to do with his time. That morning he sat with the redhead and went over the basics of reading and writing. He provided Crowley with all the ink, pens, and brushes he’d need to practice on his own.

After another arduous day of ruling the kingdom, Aziraphale returned that evening to find the redhead lost in thought. Page after page was littered around the room with his scrawlings. He’d obviously been trying very hard to please the sultan. But additionally there were a number of sketches, and one in particular seemed to absorb his attention.

Crowley tried to cover it when Aziraphale walked in, but he could easily see the portrait cradled in his lap. The angel sat on the bed and held out his hand for the paper. Cautiously, Crowley handed it over and then waited expectantly. It was a drawing of Aziraphale, a small smile playing over his lips.

“This is exquisite,” the blonde praised, sending a warm flush to Crowley’s cheeks. The thought of Crowley trying to capture his likeness, and doing a wonderful job of it was inordinately endearing to the angel. Without pretense, he leaned over and kissed the man. He’d meant it as a simple act of gratitude, but Crowley’s teeth snuck out and nibbled on the blonde’s lower lip, turning it into something else altogether.

Aziraphale groaned before drawing back. He was panting slightly. Crowley moved to follow him and crept into the sultan’s lap before he had a chance to pull himself together, and then the redhead’s tongue was deep inside his mouth, caressing the interior.

The angel found himself pressed down into the mattress. The redhead was gasping into his mouth, his fingers moving through short blonde curls. It vaguely occurred to Aziraphale that none of this should feel so good. Even when he’d brought Crowley to orgasm he hadn’t felt like this. But now his body was hungry and “Oh god,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley’s palm squeezed him through his kaftan. He’d made an effort.

Crowley whimpered as he felt along Aziraphale’s hardness, and eagerly yanked up the kaftan with his free hand. He rolled down the blonde’s body until he was positioned on his knees on the floor.

“Padişah, “ he breathed. “Aziraphale. Let me pleasure you.”

The sultan shook his head against his own will. “I don’t want a slave. I’m sick at the thought of forcing you into anything.”

“But you admit you want me?” Crowley asked, his fingers trailing over Aziraphale’s open thighs and widening them.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hissed. Crowley’s tongue lapped gently at the tip of his cock and he smiled knowingly.

“Then I won’t be your slave,” the redhead said. “I will be the one who has yearned for you, Aziraphale, Let me have you in my mouth.” He hovered above Aziraphale’s lap, waiting for permission. The angel couldn’t have denied him anyways. He thrust his hips up, meeting the redhead’s open mouth halfway.

And then he was sinking into the hottest, wettest garden imaginable. Crowley’s tongue wrapped around him and sucked him down, deeper than he imagined possible. Aziraphale looked down and watched Crowley’s head bob up and down, humming under his breath to create a rich vibration that ebbed through the blonde’s entire body.

“Oh fuck!” he keened as he pushed himself against the waves, treading farther out to explore the pure bliss of envelopment. Nothing could compare within his entire range of experience. All too soon he felt an unfamiliar pulsing warmth emanate from deep within his abdomen and a rush of pleasure overcame him. He stilled his hips and gasped out loud as Crowley swallowed him down.

The redhead stood slowly and draped himself along the sultan’s side, peppering his throat with kisses.

Aziraphale came to as if awakening from a coma. His arm went around Crowley and squeezed him tightly.

“Why?” he asked, still slightly breathless. “Why did you do that?”

Crowley hummed low in his throat, a delicious sound. “Because I worship you,” he admitted. “My heart is yours Aziraphale.”

The sultan breathed out with barely contained joy. The squeeze in his heart was both painful and incredible. “Dear boy,” he whispered, kissing the redhead soundly. They fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

-

Three days, Aziraphale realized. It was only three days ago that he’d promised the nature of his relationship to the redhead would remain chaste. And yet, how could he have known the effect Crowley would have on him? There was something ineffable about him that Aziraphale could not name. He wondered vaguely if his enemies had sent the man to destroy him with desire.

On the fourth morning the sultan met with his advisors and found they had troublesome news to deliver. The Byzantine Empire had caught on to their plans to invade Constantinople. Although the two parties often traded gifts, it did not mean their rivalry was any less heated. Politics ruled the day in the end.

Aziraphale’s vizier was weary, and cautioned that their plans might be leaking from an interior source.

“It is likely that someone among us is sharing information with the enemy,” Çandarlı the Younger advised. “We should root them out immediately. Make a list of all unvetted staff and servants.”

“Don’t be paranoid,” Aziraphale replied. “Byzantium has long held the utmost military prowess and cunning. If they saw through our plans it doesn’t mean someone has become a turncoat.”

Çandarlı huffed in annoyance, but was obeysent. “As you command, padişah.”

The sultan tried not to worry about the conspiracy as he made his way back to his rooms that evening, but the thought weighed on him heavily. What if the vizier was right? He began to compile a list of names in his mind for further investigation.

When he arrived at his chamber he was unnerved to find it empty. It wasn’t like Crowley to wander off. Immediately he began to check the adjacent rooms outside of others' private quarters. He was beginning to despair until he walked into the makeshift library and found the redhead sleeping on top of a pile of scrolls. The sultan smirked, proud that his cherished one had made his education a priority.

He watched Crowley twitch in his sleep, but grew concerned as the redhead began to thrash and moan. He was having a nightmare. Aziraphale approached carefully and rested his cool hand on a feverish brow. The poor thing was burning up.

“Crowley,” he said loudly. “Darling, wake up!”

The redhead’s eyes fluttered open, his mouth open in a silent scream. When he recognized Aziraphale he clung to his frame, quaking with fear.

“Sh, darling,” the sultan muttered. “It was just a dream.” But Crowley would not be consoled. He tore at the blonde’s kaftan as if to escape.

“The darkness!” he crowed. “I was being dragged down! I fell and I fell into the abyss of fire. And when I landed, great black wings spread over me!”

Aziraphale was alarmed but tried not to show it. The human imagination was capable of anything, after all. “But where are you now? Look around, my dear.”

Crowley took in his surroundings and calmed visibly, although he still clutched at the sultan. “I’m safe,” he whispered. “I’m here with you.”

“Indeed you are,” Aziraphale assured him. “I think you’re unwell. Let me take you back to our room.” He lifted the redhead easily, hardly pausing to think that he’d just called his bedroom something that belonged to both of them. It wasn’t even a question anymore.


	4. Twice Seduced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsk tsk another very naughty chapter

Aziraphale was resting peacefully when in the middle of the night, Crowley began to writhe in the sheets once more. He wasn’t fully awake when the redhead clasped his face and drove his tongue into his mouth with needful intent.

“Crowley,” the angel gasped, hardly cognizant. “What are you doing?”

“Please,” the redhead ground himself into Aziraphale’s lap, straddling him. “Please Aziraphale. I am so alone. It’s so dark!”

The sultan kissed him back, a familiar blush of desire blooming inside his abdomen. “What can I do love?” he asked between kisses.

“Make me feel whole,” Crowley replied as he ripped off Aziraphale’s kaftan. His own clothes had been shed long ago. “Fill me up.” The redhead grabbed a bottle of something that Aziraphale hadn’t known was by the bedside. With fast, jerking movements Crowley had filled his palm with oil and used it to lather his backside, his fingers pressing up and in.

Aziraphale watched his silhouette in the moonlight. Crowley was riding his own fingers, cock hardening and twitching as he moved.

“Tell me how,” the blonde begged.

Crowley turned around backwards and lowered himself over the sultan’s lap, giving him direct access. “Put your fingers inside of me,” he urged.

Aziraphale tentatively touched the hole Crowley had worked open and allowed his own fingers to sink inside. He tested a few different motions until he landed on one that made Crowley whimper. The redhead keened and bucked forward, using his knees to propel the rhythmic movement. “That’s it,” Crowley encouraged. “But with your cock now.”

Aziraphale didn’t even know how to deny him. He never did. He positioned himself on the brink and positively growled when the redhead sank down over him, taking in his length greedily. Being inside Crowley was tight. He felt himself compressed on all sides, and struggled to open up the path so that he could thrust in more easily. Crowley leaned forward and accommodated the sultan’s growing desire, stuttering with each jolt.

“Relax,” Aziraphale said instinctively. Crowley was unnaturally amped up, making his interior muscles clench obstructively. At his command the redhead went limp and the blonde was able to glide forward, one thousand blessings and curses on his tongue.

“Like that?” the angel asked. He wanted to make sure that the his partner matched the all-encompassing desire he felt.

“Yes!” Crowley cried out, his voice pitched high. “Don’t stop!”

“Never,” Aziraphale swore under his breath. As if he even could. They were locked together and moved as one, the angel’s hands clenched around the redhead’s slim hips. He picked him up and slammed him back down again and again over his erection.

Aziraphale was gasping and Crowley met his thrusts with enthusiasm, egging him on. “Fuck me harder,” he pleaded, his voice broken. “Fuck me, make love to me, never leave me!” The angel was hurried on by the redhead’s nonsensical demands. His words had faded to sweet, longing moans that echoed in Aziraphale’s head, his senses overwrought with pent up emotion and need.

“Crowley,” the angel said hungrily as he began to reach his peak. His fingers dug into the redhead’s tight cheeks, spreading him wide to better view their joined bodies. Crowley cried out as he orgasmed, his hands ripping the bedding as he rode it out. Aziraphale came quickly after and tried to catch his breath for several minutes while the redhead crumpled into a spent ball at his feet.

At last, the angel moved to curl himself around Crowley, rubbing his hands over the trembling frame. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Aziraphale asked.

The redhead barely lifted his head to speak. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’m overcome with some sad feeling I just can’t shake. I feel so isolated.”

“We need to find you more things to do,” the sultan recommended soundly.

“No, it’s not that,” Crowley replied firmly. He rolled over to face the angel and huffed to himself. “It’s so hard to name this darkness that plagues me, but it has nothing to do with you or how I spend my time. There’s just...long tracks throughout the night I can’t remember, as if it hasn’t passed at all. Instead I see myself from outside. I watch myself like a stranger. And then the nightmares come.”

Aziraphale gripped his arms tightly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The redhead despaired as he tried to express too many sentiments at once. “I don’t...I can’t...ugh. All I know is that when you’re with me I feel safe. The darkness can’t touch me. I just want you here with me.”

The blonde dipped his head and kissed Crowley’s neck gently. “Then I’ll have to take a few days off. Spend some time just with you. Would you like that?”

Crowley pulled him into a warm hug and cooed with delight. “You would do that? For me?”

Aziraphale didn’t dare admit all of the things he would do if put to the test. It was like nothing else mattered anymore. “I will,” he promised. “Just us together. Kingdom and wars be damned.”

The redhead chuckled as he snuggled closer to the blonde. “I’m sure it’s not so bad when you get used to it,” he joked.

Aziraphale hummed into his hair. “I suppose we’ll see,” he said softly.

-

The next morning Aziraphale took Crowley for a stroll in the imperial gardens. It was lush and colorful that time of year, and Turkish tulips and fragrant roses framed the path before them. The redhead was immediately drawn to a small pool of water with a central fountain.

“You’ve found the havuz,” the sultan remarked. Crowley arched an eyebrow. “The fountain symbolizes the source of life,” Aziraphale explained. It gives birth to the river of paradise.”

“It’s beautiful,” Crowley said thoughtfully. The relaxing sound of the water babbled all around them. He found himself caught up from behind in the blonde’s arms. “Like you,” Aziraphale added.

Crowley blushed with pleasure. “Is there more?”

Aziraphale took him to a large central pavilion and invited him to sit by his side. “I like to gather my thoughts here,” he admitted. “The servants know that I’m not to be disturbed in the garden.”

Crowley snuggled into his shoulder, all worry and anxiety long gone. “I can see why you like it,” he said.

The sultan stroked his hand through auburn locks as he stared out at the garden. “Crowley...what was life like for you before you came here?”

The redhead seemed to go still. “I...it’s all kind of fuzzy. I remember my training for the most part. A few posts I’ve held for lesser nobles. My childhood is a complete blank. Since I’ve been here I feel like my life has actually begun for the first time.”

Aziraphale tried not to flinch at the mention of other posts. “You’ve...been with others. I suppose I had assumed as much.”

Crowley sat up and looked at the blonde carefully. “It wasn’t like this,” he reassured. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand and held it tightly. “My other masters were...unkind.”

“I’m not your master,” Aziraphale said angrily. “If you want to be with me, that’s one thing, but the second you don’t want it anymore you must tell me.”

The redhead’s eyes went wide. “I can’t even imagine feeling differently. I want to stay with you forever.”

The angel’s heartstrings yanked at that. His forever was literal, while the human would waste away in mere decades. The thought was enough to destroy him. Tears formed in his eyes but he willed them away. He made a study of his heart hardening, and his will followed.

“Perhaps I should play the part of your master,” he said bitterly. “You do crave it, don’t you? Let’s not pretend I don’t know what you are. I know what you’ve done in your past, under duress or not.”

Crowley’s muscles tightened under the blonde’s suddenly firm grip. He started to move away but the angel held him fast. “I know you’re a little slut,” the blonde breathed vehemently.

The redhead scrambled then as if to escape Aziraphale’s hold but it was too strong. Aziraphale pulled him easily from his side and ground him down, pushing him with his foot until Crowley was on his hands and knees on the ground.

“You think I’m kind?” Aziraphale sneered. “That I won’t do all the things you’ve really wanted all along? You’re playing me, Crowley.”

The redhead glanced back over his shoulder and whimpered pathetically as the sultan yanked up his robes, exposing his waiting backside. Aziraphale licked his lips at the sight. He wanted everything. Submission, seduction, willful resistance. Crowley could give him that and more.

“Please…” his slave begged.

Aziraphale held firm. “Please, what?” he dared. He hoped desperately that he wasn’t frightening the redhead too much. He wanted to be met as an equal.

Crowley’s fingers curled around the cleft of his own ass and began to stoke wantonly. “Whatever you want,” he moaned. “Take it from me.”

The angel’s grace was a sham, he’d known for some time. He’d only been waiting for someone like Crowley to test him. To tempt him one step further.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the blonde said in a strangled voice. “You think all it takes is to kneel down before me? And to what end?”

Crowley’s fingers stilled. He shifted on his knees and faced his sultan with sincere composure. “To love you,” he said. His face was so open. So honest. So full of tender care and devotion.

Aziraphale’s sly smirk faded. He stared down at the beautiful man in front of him, ready and eager to satiate any and all of his needs. This was completion, at last. The blonde grasped Crowley’s arms and pulled him up into his lap. His lips moved wordlessly against the redhead’s yet spoke all the same. Confessions of love and wonder needed no sound but the slick trade of tongues. They were one. Hadn’t they always been? Even before either of them had known?

Aziraphale kissed down Crowley’s taut chest over thin fabric. He twisted it in fists to make it move, finding willing flesh underneath. The redhead threw his head back and groaned, his fingers pulling at the angel’s curls.

Aziraphale used a small miracle to lubricate his hand and pressed two fingers inside of Crowley’s body. The redhead didn’t seem to question the sudden appearance of slick fingers, too caught up in the moment to notice. The angel worked his body, plunging deeper until he could add a third.

“Yes,” the blonde murmured. “You like that, don’t you?”

“I do, Sultan” Crowley said breathlessly. “I need you, Aziraphale.”

The angel lifted him up by the hips and pushed the fabric over his own lap aside, revealing his throbbing cock. The angle was perfect when he slid in, eliciting a dark groan from the redhead. Aziraphale eased in, but Crowley was impatient and slammed down on the welcome intrusion.

He let Crowley set the pace, which turned out to be hurried and needy, much faster than they’d gone even the night before. Aziraphale tried to control himself as the redhead bared down on him, robe half slipping off of his shoulder and revealing the auburn hairs around his nipple. The angel pinched and rolled it in his fingers, making Crowley buck harder in response. This wasn’t going to last long, but it didn’t need to.

Aziraphale came hard and fast, clenching at the redhead’s thighs as he rode it out. Crowley wasn’t finished yet though. He drew himself up and hovered with his hard cock inches from the angel’s lips. Suddenly, he grabbed the soft blonde head in front of him and shoved it at his crotch. The sultan didn’t object to being used for that purpose, and eagerly took in the length of him with enthusiasm.

Crowley started to pant and held the blonde’s face as he fucked into it, so desperate to reach the heights of his orgasm. Aziraphale urged him on by cradling his clenched balls, juggling them between his fingers. One slipped behind and drove up into his wet hole, stretched from their coupling. Crowley cried out and throbbed noticeably before spilling into the angel’s mouth, hips still frantically thrusting as he softened. He fell back down into Aziraphale’s lap and began to laugh.

The angel smiled against his neck. “You enjoyed yourself?” he asked.

Crowley purred and yawned. “That was incredible. You are incredible.”

Aziraphale’s heart sighed.


	5. The 2nd omen

The sultan rolled over in the middle of the night and grasped at empty sheets. His head raised in confusion, looking around the room for the missing redhead. He was nowhere in sight. Aziraphale threw on a warm robe and began to walk the palace, hoping to find him in one of the usual places. He wasn’t in the library, the study, or any of the rooms on the second floor. Aziraphale walked downstairs just in case Crowley had gotten lost in one of the many kitchens.

He nearly walked by the meeting room where he held council, but he noticed the door was cracked open and decided to check it just in case. What he found was unnerving.

Crowley was sitting at the table, carefully reading a stack of correspondence the sultan was supposed to send out the following day. The redhead’s eyes shifted back and forth, but it was almost like he was asleep at the same time.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said softly as he entered the room. The redhead ignored him and continued to read, trading out one letter for another.

The angel sat across from him and observed how the light from a single candle caught Crowley’s dark eyes, ensconcing them in warm amber.

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale tried again, this time reaching out to touch the redhead’s hand. He jerked instantly and retreated to the wall behind him, a helpless panic setting in.

“What’s this?” Crowley cried out. “Where am I?”

“Sh,” the angel whispered. “You’re here with me. Were you sleepwalking?”

The redhead’s eyes landed on him for the first time and he took a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I...I don’t know. I don’t remember coming down here at all.” He looked toward the letters on the table and frowned in confusion.

“You were reading those,” Aziraphale said softly.

“But I can’t,” Crowley protested. “I’m still learning! Aziraphale...I’m scared. What’s happening to me?”

“I’m not sure,” the sultan began, “But I doubt it's anything to worry about. You’re sleepwalking...probably from the nightmares. Come, my darling, Let’s get you back to bed.” The redhead moved toward the door and Aziraphale lingered to pick up one of the letters he’d been reading. It was a coded transmission meant to meet his men stationed in the Mediterranean. He glanced back up at Crowley, but he’d already left the room.

“What in the devil is going on?” he said to himself aloud.

-

They awoke together the following morning, and the angel had every intention of taking Crowley out to survey the royal orchards. The redhead was resistant to waking, however, and even growled under his breath when Aziraphale kissed his nose. The sultan chuckled and Crowley opened his eyes, sending the shocked blonde back a few feet.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted. “What’s happened to your eyes?”

The redhead blinked in confusion before rising to look at himself in the glass. He let out a distressed yelp when his reflection revealed a pair of slitted, serpentine eyes. His hands went to his face as he recoiled from the vision, a sob wracking his frame and bringing him to his knees. Aziraphale was beside him in an instant.

“Darling,” the sultan comforted. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” Crowley admitted between sniffles. “But I look like a monster!”

“Hush now,” Aziraphale commanded. He forced the redhead to look at him directly. “Hm. Well they’re different, to be sure, but not without their charm. I find them quite beautiful, really. They just surprised me.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” Crowley pouted.

“I’m not!” the angel swore. “Crowley I don’t care about what your eyes look like! I care about you.”

The redhead seemed to accept this but kept his gaze to the floor resolutely.

“This is some strange magic,” Aziraphale mused. “I’ve never heard of such a transformation.”

Crowley stared back up at him. “You believe in magic?” he asked. “Like witches and spirits and all that?”

The blonde chuckled as he lifted Crowley up to settle him back onto the bed. “Something like that,” he said knowingly.

“Perhaps someone put a curse on me,” the redhead hypothesized. “Surely there must be many in your harem who have heard how you spend all of your time with me. One of them could be an enchantress or a warlock.”

Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s neck and hummed. “I’ll look into it,” he promised. “For now we’ll have my physician look over you. If he thinks you’re fine we can continue on to the orchards today. It might be good to take your mind off of it.”

Crowley hummed in agreement as Azirphale held him tightly. The angel’s mind was overloading with ideas, and one in particular frightened him to the core. This unexpected turn had the suspicious cast of a miracle, but not quite like the one a heavenly being would create. Whoever had done this to Crowley had drawn from darker powers, but to what end? For what possible motivation? Aziraphale couldn’t puzzle it out at the moment. He had other priorities anyways. He needed to make sure Crowley was okay, at least physically. He kissed the crown of his lover’s head and whispered a silent prayer in his mind. Please keep him safe.

-

After a quick visit from the medic it was determined that Crowley’s transformation was not a danger to him, strange though it was. Aziraphale was quick to scoop him up and take him out, remaining true to his promise and hopefully providing a distraction. As they walked into the early sunlit day, Crowley began to shade his eyes.

“Is the brightness bothering you?” the angel asked tentatively. Crowley squirmed, affirming the problem without admitting it. “I’ll have some shaded glasses made for you immediately,” the sultan promised. “For now though, feast your eyes on this!”

Aziraphale had led the redhead to a large meadow filled with acres of apple trees. They walked under their shade and watched some of the sultan’s workers pick bushels nearby.

“It is beautiful,” Crowley admired as they breathed in the crisp air. He noticed the varying colors and sizes of the harvest. “How many varieties do you grow?”

The blonde looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps ten or eleven, now. But one is more popular than the rest.” He led his companion to one of the trees near the center of the orchard. “This is the Amasya,” he explained. “Named after the city near the Black Sea.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed as he studied the fruit. It looked like a green apple blushing in surprise. A cautious hand raised up to touch the flesh.

“Would you like a taste?” Aziraphale asked cheerfully. Crowley froze, his eyes wide. He stood still as the blonde plucked the apple from the tree and offered it to him. “You like apples, right?” he asked uncertainly. The look on Crowley’s face seemed to indicate a strong distaste, but he let Aziraphale hand him the fruit.

“Go ahead, try it,” the angel continued. “One little bite won’t hurt.”

Crowley’s hand began to shake even as he sank his teeth in. The resultant effect was apparent as he spat it out immediately. Aziraphale began to chuckle at the strange reaction but Crowley had started to sway on his feet.

“Darling!” the angel intervened and steadied the redhead. “Do you feel unwell? Perhaps this outing wasn’t the best idea.”

Crowley shook his head even as a tear fell down his cheek. “I...it’s just that I remembered something. Or maybe it was a dream, I don’t know.”

Aziraphale guided his beloved to the ground where they could rest more comfortably. “What is it?” he insisted.

Crowley stared at the apple as if in a trance. “I was much younger. A child, I think. I was in an orchard like this one. There was a man and woman there with me, but I didn’t really know them. One day I saw the woman walking alone and we began to talk. I remember the tree we sat under...just like this one.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad memory, if it is one,” Aziraphale reassured.

“It’s just that...that was the last time I saw her. I think I did something bad. It was my fault,” Crowley gripped the apple in his hand like a vice.

The angel noted his odd expression and gently removed the fruit from his hand before tossing it out of sight. “You were a child,” he consoled. “I’m sure there’s nothing you could have done to cause her absence.”

The redhead nodded. “I worry about it. Maybe I drive people away. Do you think...could I ever drive you away?”

“Not on your life,” Aziraphale huffed. “There’s nothing you could do or say to make me leave you.” He grasped Crowley’s hand and held it tightly.

Eventually the redhead looked up, tears evident in his snakelike eyes. “Do you swear it?”

Aziraphale smiled so tenderly that Crowley couldn’t resist kissing him. “I swear it,” the sultan promised between hundreds of tiny pecks. “I swear it to you.”


	6. Betrayals and Vows

The pair arrived back at the palace to find the vizier Çandarlı waiting outside. He’d been pacing a line in the dirt.

“Padişah!” he cried out as soon as he saw them. “We must speak immediately. Alone.” His eyes flashed to Crowley with barely contained suspicion.

“Of course,” the sultan sighed. “Crowley, why don’t you return inside to rest?” The redhead nodded and padded into the palace, his eyes directed toward the ground. As soon as he left Çandarlı heaved out a breath.

“You spend too much time with your concubine,” the vizier hissed. “He belongs in the haremlik rather than your quarters.”

Aziraphale turned stony under such blatant criticism. “You over-advise,” he replied. “Do not presume to speak to me about personal matters. Now what is the matter?”

Çandarlı bowed his head. “Forgive me for overstepping, padişah. We have just received word that Byzantium knows of our plan to lay siege at Constantinople.”

“I see,” the sultan conceded. “This is most unwanted. However, it does not alter our course of action. We’re only days out from the assault. They will not have ample time to prepare.”

“But padişah,” the vizier continued. “Do you not see this confirms my earlier suspicion? Someone is acting covertly to share information with the enemy. We must root them out before they interrupt our plans any further. Who knows what sensitive information they’ll leak next?”

The blonde couldn’t help but agree. Perhaps his vizier was correct, and if so it meant there was a dangerous force at work right under his nose. Of course he was concerned for his people and the wellbeing of the growing empire, but there were also other matters that made him worry about the future. His growing affection could not be denied for Crowley, for example. He felt compelled to keep him safe.

“Sultan,” Çandarlı whispered. “I fear the traitor might be closer to you than you think.”

Aziraphale’s head jerked up in surprise. “What are you saying?” he demanded.

“The one with snake eyes,” the vizier suggested. “He’s the most recent addition to our company, and I’ve noticed these troubles only began with his arrival.”

“I won’t listen to this,” the blonde cut him off. “I know Crowley, and he would never…”

“As you say,” Çandarlı said with a low bow. “I’m sure I’m mistaken.” The vizier dismissed himself and left the sultan to stare after his retreating form. He stood there, incensed at the accusation even as it turned over in his mind. Certainly Crowley was above suspicion. In fact, Aziraphale felt their bond and trust deepen each day. Of course there had been some rather unusual occurrences as well...but nothing to suggest-

Aziraphale gasped when he thought about Crowley looking through his correspondence. An icy chill ran down his back and he swallowed hard. But Crowley didn’t even know how to read, right? There was no way...no way at all. The sultan looked up at his palace, and toward his own room’s large window. The redhead sat on the ledge, looking dreamily out at the afternoon sky, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Aziraphale knew that he’d have to make sure that was the case, to protect them both.

-

That night Aziraphale kept vigil as the redhead slept. Angels don’t really need to sleep after all. It was a habit he’d developed exclusively in Crowley’s company. As much as he missed the warmth and feel of his companion beside him, he was sitting on the window ledge instead. If his theory was correct then Crowley wouldn’t be spending the entire night in bed anyways.

In the early morning hours the redhead roused from sleep and sat up, body rocking slightly as he moved toward the bedroom door. He stopped to don his usual tunica before one hand moved to the doorknob.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called softly, but the redhead appeared to ignore him.

Understanding the sleepwalking pattern, the angel merely followed behind as the redhead moved woodenly down the hallway. He descended the stairs and made his way back to the sultan’s meeting room where he’d been discovered the previous evening.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley sat down at the table, carefully taking the stack of letters left there by the angel, and proceeded to begin reading them one by one. It went on for nearly twenty minutes before the redhead tilted his head and snapped his fingers. Immediately the scent of brimstone pervaded the room, and Aziraphale’s heart plummeted.

Crowley had summoned a presence in the fireplace where he now stared directly.

“Report?” a dark voice asked.

Crowley’s body lurched forward, his serpentine eyes blown wide. “A fleet will arrive from the Sea of Mamara,” he said automatically. “The Turks are building large cannons and are uniting with Serbian and Christian forces.”

The angel shrank back against the door. Even if Crowley was unaware of his presence, the information he shared deflated the sultan’s world.

“Very good Crawley,” the voice replied. “But what’s this?” Aziraphale couldn’t see what was happening in the fire. “Your eyes…” it continued. “It looks like the charm is deteriorating. We don’t have much more time before you revert to your true form. Is the sultan suspicious?”

Crowley blinked a few times before replying in a monotone voice. “No. He loves me.”

The voice laughed at the thought. “As if anyone could truly love a demon,” it spat. “But suit yourself. When you get back to Hell we’ll have a good laugh about it. It pains me to see you like this, Crawley. You don’t even remember yourself, do you?”

“Remember…?” the redhead intoned.

“Exactly,” the voice hissed. “We’ve really outdone ourselves this time. No matter. When the bough breaks, baby will Fall...all over again. I’m afraid you won’t prefer your old life to the cushy one you have now. Better enjoy it while it lasts. Til then…” The voice drifted out of existence, leaving Crowley to stand numbly and make his way back to the bedroom, passing Aziraphale without a thought in his head.

The sultan followed him back mutely, unable to believe what he’d just seen and heard.

For all that he felt a sense of betrayal, part of him believed that Crowley was acting against his will, if not his better nature. Even if he was a demon, there was a goodness in him that couldn’t be denied. Aziraphale wasn’t ready to believe that his greatest love was merely hypnotized. In fact, the more that the angel thought about their trip to the orchard, the more he realized the origin of Crowley’s story. A demon with snake eyes talking about a pair of people in a garden; an apple uniting the trio in sin and downfall. No, it was all too apparent that Crowley himself had played the part of the tempter in Eden. But upon hazy reflection Crowley regretted his actions.

Aziraphale vaguely remembered his days in the garden, and the wily serpent who had thwarted him. Of course, the demon had been in snake form at the time, so he couldn’t have been expected to make the connection easily.

The angel sighed as he stood outside the door of the bedroom he shared with the beautiful redhead. Crowley was snuggled back in bed, his chest rising and falling gently as if nothing unusual had transpired. Aziraphale came to stand next to his sleeping form and gazed down at him with all of the tender love he carried in his heart. If there was even a remote chance he could turn Crowley against the darkness he would do it. He would do anything for him, he realized. He stroked the redhead’s cheek and the sleeping demon pushed into his palm, a small satisfied noise at the back of his throat. Aziraphale felt a resounding feeling swell inside of his chest.

“I love you Crowley,” he breathed. “Whoever you are.”


	7. The Third Omen

Aziraphale's fingers traced down Crowley’s naked back. They were sleeping in later than usual and the angel reveled in their shared warmth.

“Darling,” he said softly as his hand drifted lower, palming the soft flesh of his buttocks and squeezing lightly. His eyes were still closed but they drifted open slowly to take in the image of his prone lover. He nearly bit his tongue at the sight that greeted him.

A slightly transparent, iridescent line of scales trailed down Crowley’s spine and split away to travel over each side of his body, around his hips and down the outside of his legs. Aziraphale sat up and noticed the scales also emanated from his shoulders and along the outside of his arms, terminating just above the wrist. He brushed the red curls from Crowley’s face and while it was unmarked by scales, a prominent snake tattoo had appeared below one of his sideburns.

Aziraphale’s clouded mind slowly called back memories of the previous evening. The voice in the fire had said something about Crowley’s ‘true form.’ Was this part of the charm that was breaking? The angel’s brows knit in concern as he massaged the redhead’s shoulder.

“Crowley...wake up my dear.”

Crowley stirred slowly, his eyes bleary as they focused on Aziraphale. “Mm,” he grumbled. “I feel like I haven’t slept at all. Are you sure we have to get up?”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m sorry my love but there’s something you should see.”

The redhead sat up and stretched, suddenly noticing the strange marks on his arms. He flinched, but the angel was already drawing him into a protective embrace.

“Yes,” the blonde confirmed. “Your skin developed this pattern overnight. Do you feel well otherwise?”

Crowley looked a little shocked but also resigned. After the ordeal with his eyes, this seemed much less threatening. “I feel the same as always,” he croaked out. His eyes met Aziraphale’s and pleaded silently.

“They are incredible,” the angel said softly. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Crowley didn’t look convinced. Tears welled in his eyes and he choked while trying to respond. “What’s happening to me?”

“Sh, now,” Aziraphale breathed. “I think I know what’s going on, and it’s going to be a bit frightening and overwhelming to hear, but I need you to listen, okay?”

Crowley nuzzled closer to the angel and sighed, willing his tears away. He nodded into Aziraphale’s chin.

“My darling there are larger forces at play in the world as you know it,” he began. “Good and evil battle at the middle ground we know as Earth. You see, you weren’t haphazardly sent to me. There are things about you that remain hidden, but the signs on your body are beginning to reveal the true story. My dear, you are a secret agent of sorts. Your memories have been erased to allow you to move amongst the Turks undetected. I have suspected this, but didn’t want to believe it until I saw the evidence with my own eyes last night. I found you in the council office as before, reading my correspondence and reporting back to some apparition in the fire.”

Crowley pushed back a few inches to see Aziraphale’s eyes as if to confirm this wasn’t some joke or trick. “I don’t...that can’t be possible.”

“The nightmares,” the angel went on. “They aren’t dreams at all, but memories of things that have happened to you.”

“I burned?” the redhead asked.

“You Fell,” the blonde corrected. “From Heaven where you once resided. Where I reside when I’m not here on Earth.”

Crowley was shaking his head in disbelief. He disentangled himself from his lover and sat on the edge of the bed. “None of this makes any sense! I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me!”

Aziraphale moved to stand before him and took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can put it into words,” he cautioned, “So I’m going to have to show you.” With the blink of his eyes great white wings unfurled, causing Crowley to jump back and fall off the other side of the bed, taking half the sheets with him. He only dared to peek his head up over the edge to take in the sight, eyes wide and terrified.

“What? What are you?!!” the redhead demanded.

“I am an angel,” Aziraphale said calmly. “You are a demon. We’re hereditary enemies. It is natural you should fear me.”

Crowley scrambled back until he was against the far wall, his entire frame shaking. “This is a dream!” he cried. “I’ll wake up and everything will go back to normal.” He dropped his head in his hands and began to sob earnestly. “It’s a dream,” he told himself over and over.

Aziraphale sheathed his wings and came to kneel in front of the demon. He reached out for one of his hands and drew him up, folding him in his arms. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said tenderly. “I would never harm you. We may be from different worlds, but I have sworn to you that I love you and that remains unchanged. Let me show you your true nature.”

The blonde stepped back and held Crowley’s hands tightly in his own. “Close your eyes,” he commanded. “You need only think of your wings to manifest them.”

“I don’t want to!” Crowley snarled back. “I don’t want to be a demon!”

“The word is a meaningless label,” Aziraphale replied. “It doesn’t define who you are and it doesn’t make me love you any less. But you need to see, Crowley. You need to know what you are so we can move forward. Now concentrate on your wings!”

Crowley resisted but the thought burned in his mind, and against his will a great pair of raven wings filled the space behind him. Even as he felt the muscles stretch out he refused to look. Tears streamed down his face.

Aziraphale summoned his wings once more and held the redhead so he couldn’t escape. Tentatively, a white wing stretched out to caress the black feathers at Crowley’s side. The redhead couldn’t hold in a shudder of pleasure. His head snapped back and his mouth fell open, revealing two sharp incisors.

The angel lifted his hand to Crowley’s lips and traced over the fangs with great care. “Everything about you is remarkable,” he whispered. “Can’t you see how perfect you are?”

The redhead looked him in the eyes at last, letting his tears evaporate as he took in the angelic form in front of him before glancing back at his own wings. They stretched and fluttered behind him in response. “You’re in love with a demon,” he said unsteadily as turned to face Aziraphale. “And I’m in love with an angel. What side does that leave us on?”

Aziraphale kissed him sweetly and held him close. “We’re on our own side.”


End file.
